#uncertainty. confusion. fear. suppression of all these so as not to be rude.

[intervalart]

passed by this reel on insta, and was Possessed™ (oc redraw)

[justrandomfanfictionskh]

Mary Todd pt 3

Previous

Marinette knew she looked beautiful, and not just because her friends, family, and the kwami's had told her so repeatedly. She had made her dress specifically for this night taking into account everything from her body shape to her skin tone. This was her night, celebrating her victory. So, she was going to look her absolute best, by pouring every ounce of her skill and artistic powers into the perfect dress. When Roy had turned to look at her, she had seen in his expression that her efforts had not been wasted. However, this Jason was starting to make her doubt, because he was staring at her with nothing short of pale faced terror. His body was tensed like a rubber band about to snap. His jaw was clinched so tight, it might have been glued shut. And those strange green, blue eyes were filled with such open shock and fear, that she had to stop and make sure she wasn't turning into an akuma. It was more than a little unnerving.

Roy seemed to think so as well, since (after seeing his friend's posture) he tensed and began looking between him and her with a mix of confusion and uncertainty. After an awkward moment Marinette decided that she would have to break the tension and thus offered up a gentle smile saying, "It's nice to meet you M. Todd, I hope you are enjoying your stay in Paris."

Her words seemed to shake the man a little, as he cleared his throat, loosened his shoulders, and said, "Yes. Very much. Thank you," before immediately turning to his drink. He then proceeded to ignore her completely, which Marinette found to be more than a little insulting. After all, what could she have possibly done to this man, this stranger, to deserve such a reaction. 

"Any way," Roy said turning his back on Jason, "Are you enjoying the party?"

Marinette smiled as she glanced at the Eiffel Tower, still a brilliant red. "I am, and you?"

"Well, I wasn't until about a minute ago," Roy said his flirtatious smile returning in full force. 

"Let me guess," Marinette said allowing some slyness into her voice, "Is that when you saw me?"

"Would it be too cringy if I said yes?"

"Yes, but not the bad kind."

"I didn't know there was a good kind of cringe?"

"Of course, there is!" Marinette exclaimed, "Like dad jokes or bad movies. In flirting, bad cringe is when the cheesy pick-up line is unwanted. Good cringe means that it is wanted."

Roy beamed at the implication, "Good to know." Marinette returned the smile, but it dropped to concern when something deep and ferocious growled. Roy turned, and Marinette saw Jason scowling into his glass of whiskey. "You’re sure you're alright, Jay?" Roy said now more annoyed than concerned.

Jason drained his glass in one shot before growling, "I'm fine." As he signaled for another.

Roy was now watching his friend with such a strange mix of complete concern and gentle annoyance, that it contorted his face in a wat that made Marinette suppress a giggle. It was just too cute, and she decided that despite this Jason's rudeness, she wanted to continue their conversation. "So," she said casually, "If you don't like these kinds of parties then why come?" 

Roy sighed as he sipped his drink and then nodded into the crowd, "Our adoptive fathers. They love these things. They like to compete to see who can throw the most money around. Mainly to charities and the like, but still, it gets old real fast."

Marinette raised an eyebrow but followed his gaze to a group beneath an ice sculpture of King Monkey. There were two men in the center of a group of socialites, both smiling and laughing and making fools of themselves. Marinette gave them the benefit of the doubt, and assumed that they were a little drunk. Meanwhile, their dates stood off to the side consoling each other as they watched with poorly concealed amusement. "Your adoptive fathers are Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen?"

"Yep," Roy said with some level of exasperation, and Jason drained his glass again. 

Marinette thought about everything she had heard of the two gentlemen. They were both on her waiting list. So, she had researched them, and found that either the tabloids had it out for the richest men in America, or they were exactly the type of client that she did not want to work with. "That would get old," she said at last and then slapped her hand over her mouth. She had not meant to say that out loud. 

However, Roy laughed, and Jason might have cracked a smile as he sipped his drink. "I am so glad you agree," Roy said. 

Marinette laughed nervously desperately trying not to stutter. She had worked hard to overcome her nervous tick, and she would not start again now. So she took a deep breath, and focused on each word that came out of her mouth as she said, "What I meant was, that...I don't think they'll have a lot to compete for here, since Ladybug fixed all of the property damage from each attack." 

"Yeah," Roy said, "You're lucky your hero has such an amazing power. Back in Star City, our guy is only just useful enough to stop the occasional mob boss. And if you ask me the only reason, he's half as successful as he is, is because of Black Canary. She's the real power behind our heroes."

Marinette laughed and was about to playfully argue with him, when Jason said in a low, unsteady voice, "Was it hard? The akumas, I mean. Were...did they...did they ever hurt you?"

Marinette sighed and downed a large portion of her glass before setting it down. The bartender wordlessly refilled it and met her eyes. She and him shared the same haunted look of pain and sympathy, before she turned back to her companions and said with a deep breath, "Yes, it was hard. Not many outside of Paris truly understand what we went through. And even if they know the facts, it’s hard to explain how it changed us. I don't think there is one single Parisian who hasn't been akumatized, brain washed, maimed, or killed over the last five years. Many have experienced all four and more than once. And on top of it all, you could barely process any of the events you were going through because then you risk becoming part of the problem. You became a slave, doomed to hurt everyone and everything around you until you've been freed, or served your purpose."

"But we always had Ladybug," the bartender said confidently. "She never failed us, fixed our buildings, healed our wounds, raised our dead. She saved us almost every single day, and in the end, she freed us. We will never not owe her everything. We will always be eternally grateful to her."

Marinette smiled softly as she let the stranger's words wash over her. Letting her eyes drift towards the Eifel Tower with tears and gratitude, she remembered the distant words of a half-forgotten story and said, barely above a whisper, "She cast her magic spell, and made everything better."

A sharp intake of breath drew her attention, and she turned to see Roy staring at her with eyes full of pity and understanding, and Jason pale and shaking staring into his glass. "Did you..." Jason began in a choked voice, "Did you...die?"

Marinette sighed and nodded, "A few times. But I'd rather not talk about it if it's alright with you. We're supposed to be celebrating after all."

"Of course," Roy said smiling. And it was a much better smile than his flirtatious one, full of understanding and maybe even a little adoration. "So, tell me, what brings you here, other than celebrating the greatest heroes in the world."

Marinette felt herself blush at the compliment, as unintentional as it was, and said, "Oh well, I am a designer. I was commissioned by Style Queen to design some outfits for some of the VIPs here tonight. I gave her the designs and her team made sure they were done in time. And thank kwami for that, otherwise I would have never finished."

"Really," Roy said in wonder. "Show me! Which ones?" 

Marinette giggled and began pointing out her friends. They had all wanted outfits reminiscent of the heroes of Paris knowing full well that this might be their last chance to go all out in their personas without raising suspicion of their identities. So, Marinette had gone all out. She pointed to Zoe and Cloe, who were matching in their elegant Queen Bee and Vesperia dresses. With Queen Bee being yellow with black accents and Vesperia being black with yellow accents. Mayor Bourgeois was standing near them with his wife, and they were honoring both of the heroes, with equal parts black and yellow. They didn't know that Zoe was Vesperia, but everyone knew Chloe was Queen Bee, and she had insisted that they honor the new Bee Hero along with the old. Kagami was holding Zoe's hand wearing a red Ryuko dress that was styled after a traditional Japanese kimono and embroidered with a black and gold eastern dragon. She then pointed out Alya (her mom was catering the event), who was wearing a burnt orange Rena Rouge dress with white accents, dancing with Nino, whose dark green jacket was stitched to give the illusion of a Carapace shell on his back.

Pointing to Luka in his dark blue suit Viperion suit, Marinette stressed how important it was that the embroidered snakes had to be silhouetted and not full color. She then saw Juleka in her Purple Tigress dress, and she complained about how long it took her design team to get just the right shade of purple in the painted stripes that framed the bodice and bled into the skirt. However, it was nowhere near as difficult as Jagged's suit because he had decided that he had to support both of his children's favorite heroes, while maintaining his own style. However, the most touching request had been Clara Nightingale's because she had wanted to honor all of the Miraculous. So, Marinette had taken extra care in designing the white dress embroidered with every single Miraculous animal dancing around her skirt and bodice. However, Marinette's favorite was Adrien's Chat Noir suit. It was the simplest, but it was the only one she had made without Audrey's team, and she had spent hours embroidering hidden black cats in the black fabric, and a golden bell on the tie. However, she did have to spend three hours convincing him not to wear cat ears.

When she was done point out all of her friends, a few others, Roy was staring wide eyed and amazed, at all of her hard work. He shook his head in wonder and said, "Wow, just...wow...you are amazing. Those are incredible. And I assume you designed your own dress as well."

"Yes," Marinette said stepping back to display the flowing red gown with black accents. Her hair was pinned up to into a bun with red crystals, and her accessories were encrusted with black jewels that twinkled in the party lights. "I actually made this one myself, although Mme. Audrey provided the jewelry." 

"Incredible," Roy breathed. "You are so talented. But wait...I thought Jagged Stone only wore suits designed by MDC. You're not..."

Marinette blushed and adverted her eyes. But when she did, she caught a glimpse of something on the Tower that she didn't notice before. She squinted at it, and then gasped when she noticed what it was. She laughed her clearest and most heartfelt yet, causing the two men to look at her in confusion. But before they could ask what had caught her attention, Luka and Adrien pushed through the crowd. 

"Mari!" Adrien called, "There you are! Come on we have too---"

"Adrien!" Marinette squealed, "Look! Look! I didn't notice it before, because of the gaps in the metal. But look! The spots on the Tower. They’re not spots! They’re cat paws! Adrien! They're projecting cat paws on the Eiffel Tower!" 

Adrien blinked and stared in awe. "Huh," he said, "Well how about that?" Marinette beamed as his eyes began to water, and Luka hugged him from behind. They all stood in quiet gratitude to the city that they had fought for for so long. They had never taken up their mantels for praise or validation. But to be given that praise and validation after so many years of suffering and sacrifice, was a boon that they could never appreciate enough. They didn't need it. They didn't ask for it. They would have done it all over again without it. But still it was given, and the two heroes felt the love of the entire city surround them in that moment. And despite all of the scares from the past five years, in that moment they were fulfilled with the gratitude of their city. 

Their reverie was broken when Roy cleared his throat and said, "So, you all are big Chat Noir fans huh." 

Adrien blushed, but Marinette said confidently, "Ladybug would never have succeeded without Chat Noir. She could not have asked for a better partner, and he does not get nearly enough love and appreciation as he deserves."

Adrien hid his deepening blush in his boyfriend’s arm and said, "Well, we'd love to stay and chat, but our friends are looking for us."

"Oh right," Marinette said upon recognizing their code phrase. She finished her wine and turned to face her drinking companions. "It was very nice to meet you, Roy. You too, Jason. I think."

Roy chuckled and said, "It was very nice to meet you too, Marinette. And don't worry about the ass, he's never nice to meet. Do you mind if I find you later?"

Marinette paused, eying him. Roy was a stranger, but it was hard not to like him when he seemed so sincere and kind. His friend was strange and rude, somehow familiar, but Roy seemed sweet. Besides, he was cute. So she smiled slyly and said, "You're assuming that you can find me."

"Do you doubt my abilities?" Roy said.

"I do not know your abilities."

"Then I will have to find you, and show you about how amazing all of my abilities are."

"We will see," Marinette mused. And as Jason's growl turned Roy's attention way, she pulled her friends back into the crowd. As they moved to the spot where they could transform, Adrien laughed at her saying,

"Why did you never flirt like that with me?"

"Or me?" Luka grinned.

Marinette rolled her eyes and said, "Because you're dorks. And I was a dork. And dorks don't know how to flirt." 

"You knew how to flirt with him!" Adrien exclaimed. 

"Because I'm no longer a dork. I am a successful business woman, and world renowned designer. But you...you will never change. You will forever be the King of the dorks. Long may you reign."

"Ouch." Adrien mock protested.

But Luka said, "Good I like dorks."

Marinette rolled her eyes, and she pulled Adrien away from the party. Hiding behind the vendor trucks, Adrien and Marinette let Tikki and Plagg out into the night air. The two kwami immediately began bickering. But Marinette and Adrien only turned to face each other with gentle smiles and shinning eyes. "Ready for our final bow, Chaton?" Marinette asked softly. 

"My final bow, milady," Adrien corrected. "You're show is only just getting started. And I am so excited for where it's going. Just remember, if it ever gets to be too much, all you have to do is ask. And your entire team will come running. We are all here for you, miraculous or not. We are family, and we love you."

Blinking back tears, Marinette hugged her partner, as the music quieted and the Mayor of Paris introduced the President of France to the waiting audience. She held him long and tight because, this was it. It was over. Their war was done. They had won. And now they had to move forward, to whatever the hell came next. 

next

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[falsegoodnight]

✰ Infernal Devices AU Snippet ✰

Teen&Up | 1k

CONTEXT: An AU based on The Infernal Devices by Cassandra Clare. Louis as Tessa & Harry as Will 

(very minor spoilers from first book, Clockwork Angel)

Louis sucked in a breath, fingers trembling as he tightened his grip on the jug. It felt heavy in his hands, weight increasingly reassuring as the door opened slowly with a foreboding creak. 

His vision blurred with tears as a figure stepped into the room, wrapped in shadows. Heart pounding up his throat, he lunged forward with a muted cry, channelling every ounce of strength he possessed and swinging it wildly towards the stranger. 

The figure tensed, abruptly moving out of the way but they weren’t quick enough. The jug collided with his outstretched arm before crashing to the floor and shattering into a million glass shards. 

The yell that followed was decidedly masculine but Louis didn’t wait to see if this mysterious man who had now stumbled back keeling over in pain posed just as much of a threat as Mrs. Dark. He rushed to the door which had been slammed shut through all the chaos, hands shaking as he grasped the knob and turned-

It didn’t budge. 

He pulled in vain, another onslaught of tears flooding his eyes. Panic and intense fear bubbled up in his chest as the door refused to open. Locked, it was locked again. He was trapped. 

A sudden assault of bright light seared through the room and Louis gasped, eyes fluttering shut as the glow grew brighter. Spinning around, he squinted through the blinding rays, lips parting in shock. 

There was a boy standing in front of him, not a demon, but a young man. Louis stared. The stranger couldn’t be much older than him- eighteen, maybe nineteen. He was dressed in tattered workman’s clothes: frayed black jacket, worn-out trousers, and scuffed leather boots. He wore no waistcoat and there were strange leather straps criss-crossed over his chest. Attached to the belts were weapons. Dozens of them ranging from knives, daggers, and peculiar stakes that looked to be made of ice. 

He had one hand raised, palm flattened in a sign for surrender. In his other hand, some sort of glowing stone was pulsing brightly, emitting the light that had almost blinded Louis seconds ago. 

On his opposite arm, his left sleeve was rolled up to his elbow revealing the bloody gash Louis had inflicted on him, spanning the length of his forearm before tapering at his wrist. 

His gaze lifted to the stranger’s face and suddenly, he was staring for an entirely different reason. This stranger had the face of an angel, more beautiful than the most vivid descriptions he’s read in novels. His dark curls were tangled but soft, a single curved strand falling over his forehead. Eyes like a forest, dark and intense, stared at Louis assessingly. Elegant cheekbones, a full mouth, and strong, angled features… even the curve of his throat rivaled the most lauded marble statues. He looked like every hero Louis had ever read about or conjured in his head, like every charming protagonist or enchanting love interest fused into one. 

But then he narrowed his eyes, lips flattening into a line as he raised his injured arm. “You cut me,” he said, tone incredulous. His voice was pleasant, slow and deep. He’s British, Louis muses, his accent very ordinary. The stranger arched an eyebrow, glancing at his arm with a frown. “It could be fatal.”

Louis stared at him with wide eyes, taking a step back hesitantly and wiping helplessly at his wet cheeks. “Are you… the Magister?” His voice dipped lower at the end, uncertainty lacing his words. 

The boy made no sign of having heard him, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully. He flexes his arm, crimson blood dripping from skin and splattering across the white floors. “Dear me, this is quite the cut. Massive blood loss, death could be imminent.” He spoke leisurely, almost nonchalant at the prospect. 

“Are you the Magister?” Louis repeated, confusion twisting his stomach.

“Magister?” the boy parroted, looking surprised at the question. He furrowed his brows, face pensive. “That means ‘Master’ in Latin, doesn’t it?”

Louis blinked, the unexpected question registering in his mind slowly. “It...” he trailed off, an urge to pinch his arm and confirm that this wasn’t an odd dream growing within him. “I suppose it does,” he answered, utterly bewildered. 

“I’ve mastered quite a number of talents in my life,” the boy continued, studying his arm with an expression of mild displeasure on his face. “Navigating the streets of London, dancing the quadrille and waltz, cheating at Charades, concealing a highly intoxicated state, delighting young women-” He paused, running his eyes appreciatively over Louis’ body and licking his lips, “and young men- with my charms.” 

Louis gaped at him, unable to suppress the flush spreading up his cheeks due to the bold statement. 

“Alas,” the boy went on wistfully, “no one has ever actually so willingly referred to me as ‘the master’ or ‘the magister’ either... Not without me demanding it first.” He shrugged, expression roguish. “More’s the pity.” 

“Are you concealing a highly intoxicated state at the moment?” Louis blurted abruptly. He had intended it to be a serious question, but realized now that the words have slipped from his lips that it may have been interpreted to be awfully rude- or worse, flirtatious. The boy looked too steady on his feet to be drunk anyway, words too pronounced and deliberate rather than slurred or messy. 

“How very direct, but I suppose it must be an American thing,” the boy muses, looking entertained at Louis’ lack of propriety. “Yes, your accent gives you away. What’s your name?” 

Louis gawked at him in disbelief, fingers curling into his sleeves. “What’s my name?”

“S’what I said, isn’t it?” the boy says amusedly, “Don’t you know it?”

“You-” Louis shakes his head, feeling hysterical as he continues, “You’ve barged into my room and scared me half to death and now you’re demanding to know my name? What on earth is your name? Who are you?” 

“My name’s Harry Styles,” the boy replied easily, unbothered by Louis’ glare. He looked around casually, taking in their barren surroundings with curious eyes. “This is your room? Not very nice, is it?” he drawls, wandering over to the small window before pausing to examine the small stack of books on Louis’ bedside table. His eyes flicker over to the bed, brows arching again. He glances at Louis, waving a hand at the ropes as his lips curl up into a smirk. “Do you particularly enjoy being tied up?” 

-

coming soon to falsegoodnight